


What Is Love?

by Kangofu_CB



Series: Captain Carter [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Captain Carter - Freeform, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Shrunkyclunks, the answers may surprise you, the previous exploits of one Steven G Rogers, they sure surprised Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: Bucky squeezed his fingers where they were tangled together, and Steve realized he’d been getting steadily more tense as the elevator climbed.“Steve, it’ll be fine,” Bucky reassured him.  “And if it’s not fine, we’ll just leave.” He shrugged.Steve tried to call his shoulders back down from where they were inching up towards his ears.  He’d told Bucky that he hadn’t come clean with the team, had offered to do so instead of throwing him to the wolves, but Bucky seemed to find the whole thing vaguely amusing, the same way he’d found Peggy’s antics the first time they met delightful.  And Bucky was right, of course. If the team - his friends, Steve reminded himself - didn’t take Bucky’s appearance well, they could just leave.But Steve didn’t want to leave.  He wanted them to like and be liked by Bucky and that, Steve suddenly realized, was what his nerved stemmed from.This must be what it felt like to bring someone home to meet your family.AKA, Bucky meets the Avengers.





	What Is Love?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second in my Captain Carter series, and probably does not stand well on its own. Highly recommend you read that one first.

Steve came into awareness of another presence in the room gradually, something in his spacial periphery and an itch at the back of his neck that became a distraction from trying to get the fall of hair exactly right as he sketched.  He looked up and found Natasha perched on a chair, just on the edges of his vision.

 

“You know I hate it when you do that,” he said mildly, turning back to the sketchbook in his lap.

 

“You’re getting better,” she replied, ignoring the gentle admonishment.  “I was only here for two and a half minutes before you noticed.”

 

“One day,” Steve warned, setting the book aside for the moment, now hopelessly sidetracked, “you’re going to break in here and find me in a compromising position.”

 

Natasha smiled, as close to genuinely as she ever got.  “Is that meant to be a  _ deterrent, _ Steven? Because let me assure you, it’s the opposite.” Her gaze raked over his frame with an exaggerated leer.  “You’d have to  _ be _ in a compromising position for me to catch you, anyway.”  She handwaved the thought away as though it were fantastical.

 

Oh, if only she knew, Steve thought.

 

Granted, he hadn’t been in any compromising positions lately, but his relationship with Bucky was showing some serious promise.  They’d been casually dating for a few weeks, coffee shops and movie theaters and at least two more-than-casual dinners that had ended with heated goodnight kisses outside Bucky’s apartment. 

 

Steve was feeling hopeful on the compromising positions front.

 

“Is this the  _ neighbor, _ Steven?” She sounded slyly amused, and Steve realized she’d edged closer, close enough to see the sketchbook still open on the table.  “The  _ spy _ neighbor?  Fake-Kate? I didn’t know you liked  _ spies _ , Steve.”

 

“I married the best spy of the twentieth century,” Steve reminded her, “and no, it’s not the neighbor.  Whose name, by the way, is Sharon.” Which Natasha knew, because Steve had told her months ago, when Natasha revealed she’d sussed out the agent’s field status in S.H.I.E.L.D.  Evidently, ‘Agent 13’ had gotten injured in the line of duty, and her assignment here was a compromise between live fire exercises and desk duty. Steve didn’t tell Natasha how he knew her name, though he was aware that Natasha wondered.  He chose to let her believe he was more clever than he appeared, rather than a glorified secret-keeper. 

 

Peggy had appreciated the photo he’d surreptitiously taken on his cellphone a few weeks ago though.

 

The sketch, however, was of his mother, the way he preferred to remember her, her blonde hair in finger waves and wearing her Sunday best.

 

The resemblance to Sharon Carter was remarkable, despite the 1930s styling.

 

“It looks like the neighbor, Carter.”

 

“It’s my  _ mother _ , Romanov.”

 

She hummed quietly, a sort of toneless, noncommittal sound that meant she didn’t really believe him, and she wanted him to know it.  Steve rolled his eyes. He got up from the couch, pointedly leaving the sketchbook where it lay, unhidden from her perusal, and poured himself a glass of water.  He held it up, motioning towards Natasha in a  _ would you like _ gesture, but she shook her head.

 

“You’re lonely,” she said, instead, curling up into the armchair she’d been gleefully perched on, looking, for all intents and purposes, as though she had no intention of moving anytime soon.  “Come to the tower for dinner and game night.”

 

And maybe Steve  _ was _ a bit lonely.  Not in the sense that he hunkered in his apartment and did nothing - that wasn’t the case.  Steve visited Peggy and went on dates with Bucky and shopped at the farmer’s market every Tuesday, where most of the stall holders knew him by sight if not by name and set aside produce for him.  No, he was lonely more in the sense that he still felt adrift in the new century, and he wasn’t entirely convinced it was a feeling that was ever going to go away, no matter what he did.

 

Natasha, of course, just thought he never interacted with any other members of the human race. 

 

Still, it did help to be with the others, who were all misfits in their own ways in addition to being his friends.

 

“Sure,” he said, rinsing the glass out.  “When?”

 

“Tomorrow night,” she said, and now she was flipping through the sketchbook instead of looking at his face. 

 

Well, Steve did love to surprise her.

 

“Can’t,” he responded as he leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest.  “I have a date.”

 

She blinked up at him and for a brief, shining moment he got to see her genuine surprise at his words.  Between that first blink and the next her expression evened out to a smooth, expectant one.

 

He smirked. 

 

Natasha grimaced.

 

After a few moments of silent standoff, she huffed out a breath and waved her hand breezily, as though it didn’t matter.  “Bring her to the tower after dinner. Men your age don’t stay out that late anyway.” She paused, her mouth curling at the edges.  “Unless you’d planned to bring her  _ home _ afterwards.”

 

As a matter of fact, Steve  _ had _ been thinking of inviting Bucky inside after their date - which, for the record they were planning on a trip to the Botanical Gardens,  _ not _ dinner - but…

 

He  _ did _ love surprising Natasha. 

 

_ Do you want to meet the Avengers? _

 

Steve sent the text after he ushered Nat out of his apartment, citing errands and gym plans, and he tapped the slim device against his palm as he waited for Bucky’s response.  It was, maybe, a bit soon for a full immersion into their dysfunctional team dynamics, but Bucky had handled Steve and Peggy with aplomb, and had, over the course of his career, met his fair share of celebrities.  

 

_ the *other* Avengers.  _ Bucky sent back, and Steve laughed.

 

_ I’m retired _

 

They’d had this conversation.  The one where Steve insisted he wasn’t an Avenger - was simply Steve, that the aliens thing had been a fluke, and Bucky insisting that he was an Avenger because he got invited to Avenger game nights. 

 

_ You’ve been invited to game night as my plus one _ , Steve sent,  _ which, by your rules, makes you an Avenger. _

 

There was a long moment of ellipses while Bucky typed, and stopped, and typed again before Steve received a response.

 

_ I’ve always wanted to be a superhero. _

 

*

Steve felt almost  _ bad _ as he and Bucky rode the elevator up to the Avenger’s common room floor.  Natasha, he was sure, had shared with them that Steve was bringing a date, but there was still a vaguely guilty feeling that was settling in his gut, that he hadn’t, what? Warned them? Which, Steve knew, was stupid and pointless, but it didn’t seem to stop him from feeling it.

 

Bucky squeezed his fingers where they were tangled together, and Steve realized he’d been getting steadily more tense as the elevator climbed.

 

“Steve, it’ll be fine,” Bucky reassured him.  “And if it’s not fine, we’ll just leave.” He shrugged.

 

Steve tried to call his shoulders back down from where they were inching up towards his ears.  He’d told Bucky that he hadn’t come clean with the team, had offered to do so instead of throwing him to the wolves, but Bucky seemed to find the whole thing vaguely amusing, the same way he’d found Peggy’s antics the first time they met delightful.  And Bucky was right, of course. If the team - his friends, Steve reminded himself - didn’t take Bucky’s appearance well, they could just leave.

 

But Steve didn’t  _ want _ to leave.  He wanted them to like and be liked by Bucky and that, Steve suddenly realized, was what his nerved stemmed from.

 

This must be what it felt like to bring someone home to meet your family.  

 

Well.  That was a thought.  Steve huffed a laugh.

 

Bucky raised his eyebrow, and Steve shook his head a little.  “It feels like I’m bringing you home to meet the parents,” he admitted, and Bucky’s megawatt grin could have lit the whole room.

 

Any response he might have made was cut off by the elevator’s arrival and JARVIS announcing their present. 

 

“Captain Carter and his guest have arrived.”

 

Steve and Bucky stepped out onto the common area floor, which was part communal living room, part kitchen, part media den.  Tony was in the kitchen with Bruce, dropping god-only-knew-what into a blender, Rhodey was draped over a recliner in the media room with a bowl of popcorn already in his lap, Natasha was busy dividing various games into piles of her own devising, Thor was noticeably absent - his lack of enthusiastic greeting Steve’s only clue - and Clint-

 

Clint was perched on the back of one of the couches like some sort of gargoyle, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

 

“Pay up, bitches!” he crowed, delighted, throwing his hands up in the air in excitement and promptly falling off the back of the couch.

 

There was a round of groans as everyone - even Natasha - reached for their pockets or their wallets.

 

“Didn’t you grow up in a circus?” Bucky asked, managing to hit the perfect note of concerned disbelief and sarcasm.

 

Steve cracked up.

 

Clint, on the other hand, reappeared over the couch, his grin spread even wider across his face, although he was more than happy to accept the cash currently being handed his way.  “Cap, did you bring a Hawkeye fan to Team Night?”

 

Shrugging, Steve turned to Bucky in question and watched, fascinated, as a blush worked its way up his throat. 

 

“Oh my god, you did!” Clint cackled, and flopped backwards onto the couch cushions.  “This is the best day of my life.”

 

“You failed to mention you were a  _ fan _ ,” Steve said to Bucky, teasing, and watched the blush spread further.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be a fan?” Bucky grumbled, ducking his head a little.  “He’s the only regular human on the team and he’s a badass. Everyone should be a fan.”

 

“Oh my god, he’s a fanboy!” Clint’s voice was utterly delighted.  “Steve, Steve, can we keep him? I wanna keep him.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes.  “Everyone, this is Bucky Barnes.  My boyfriend. Bucky, everyone.” He gestured at the room of fairly disgruntled people, with Clint the notable exception. 

 

Natasha seemed to recover first as she slunk across the room and planted herself in front of Bucky.  She gave him a searching once-over, before nodding once and reaching out to shake his hand. Bucky took it tentatively, but it was just a simple handshake. “Natasha Romanov,” she said, and let go. Then she turned narrowed eyes on Steve, gave him a dirty look that he took to mean they’d be talking about this later, and stalked off back into the media room, thumping Clint on the head on her way back to the game piles.  

 

Tony and Bruce waved from the kitchen.  “You want a smoothie?” Tony offered. “Sure you do, everyone likes smoothies.  Mango-banana? Strawberry? Vegan lemon ginger spinach? I have options, just tell me what you’re in the mood for, Buckaroo.”

 

Bucky turned raised eyebrows on Steve, but Steve just shrugged.  Tony ran through nicknames like most people changed their underpants, and ninety percent of the time Steve didn’t get the references. 

 

“Don’t let him give you one of the green ones!” Rhodey shouted from his recliner, smirking.  “They taste like grass had a baby with seaweed.”

 

“Sure?” Bucky said. “Not the vegan whatever thing.  Strawberry?”

 

Tony went to work with the blender, and Steve tugged Bucky further into the room, headed for the couch Clint wasn’t currently hanging upside down out on.  

 

“What were we betting on?” Steve asked the blond man, whose face was slowly turning redder as the blood rushed to his head. 

 

“Well-” Clint began.

 

“Whether or not you were gay,” Rhodey interrupted, cutting off what was sure to be a very involved explanation.

 

“Not true!” Clint yelled, pointing.

 

Natasha huffed. 

 

“We started off betting whether or not you were going to show up,” Tony chimed in, dropping a blender cup in Bucky’s lap and slouching onto the other end of the couch in a boneless sprawl with his own cup of green goop.  “But Red Scare over here was pretty confident you’d be here, so  _ then _ we were gonna bet whether you’d bring the date and there was some very tasteful and not-at-all objectifying speculation about what kind of girl you’d bring home.”

 

“Which was when I said you weren’t gonna bring a girl,” Clint chimed in.  He’d slithered off the couch completely and was now sitting on the floor, cross-legged with his back against the sofa.  His hair was sticking up in all directions and Steve noticed a bandage on the side of his neck that looked fresh. “And clearly I was right,” he added, triumphant and pleased with himself. “But I never said you were gay.”

 

Bruce rolled his eyes.  He was, Steve noticed, the only one who hadn’t had to give Clint money.  

 

“What gave him away?” Bucky asked, watching the conversation bounce back and forth like a ping-pong ball.  “I mean, besides me showing up.”

 

Clint snorted.  “As a formerly-tights-wearing person, I can assure you that no man who wears tights is straight.”

 

Bucky started laughing, and the more he tried to stop, the funnier he clearly found the situation, until he was laughing so hard it was silent. 

 

“Okay, but Peggy Carter!” Tony said, emphatically.  “C’mon everyone knows that was a genuine, time-honored, Grand Romance!”

 

“Peggy Carter married a woman,” Bruce said, matter-of-fact.  “I’m not sure your logic holds.”

 

Tony shrugged.  “Aunt Peggy was a bit eccentric.  Everyone knows that. Doesn’t mean Capsicle wasn’t the Republicanized paragon of old-fashioned values.”

 

“Tony, you’ve seen me at Black Lives Matter rallies.”

 

“Wait,” Rhodey said, sitting up and barely managing to catch the popcorn bowl he dislodged.  “Wait, Peggy Carter’s gay?”

 

Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands.

 

Bucky was hiccuping in his seat, and this only made him laugh harder.  “Oh god,” he wheezed. “Oh god, Steve, you gotta- lemme tell the story, please?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Steve said.  “They have enough ammunition already.”

 

“Anyway!” Clint said, loudly, “I knew Steve wasn’t straight cause I caught him staring at me in the gym.”  He flexed his admittedly-impressive biceps. “Not that I can blame him.”

 

Natasha stomped on Clint’s foot and Steve felt his face burning.

 

Bucky was choking on  _ nothing _ at this point.

 

This, Steve realized, was a terrible, terrible mistake.  There was absolutely no way that he was going to live  _ any _ of this down.  They would torment him for the remainder of his very long life.  He sighed.

 

“Fine,” he said, sullenly.  “Fine. I was checking Barton out in the gym.  I’m not straight. Peggy and I used to have threesomes during the war, and she introduced me to Bucky because she knew he’d be my type.  There, all my dirty secrets are out, are you all happy now? Can we play a game or something?”

 

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Natasha suggested, smiling winningly at Steve.

 

“No!” he, Clint, and Rhodey shouted, all at once. 

 

Natasha pouted. 

 

“I want to hear more about the threesomes,” Tony said, leaning forward. “What kind of ratios are we talking about? Two girls and you, two dudes, like… wait no, this is my Aunt Peggy, I need brain bleach- nevermind I thought about it too long and I can’t unknow this.”

 

“Serves you right,” Steve muttered.

 

“Actually,” Bucky started, and Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and covered Bucky’s mouth with his hand.  

 

Bucky licked him.

 

“Charming,” Steve said, dryly.  “I can’t imagine why I haven’t brought anyone home before,” he added, throwing in some of that infamous aw-shucks Captain America ‘buy a war bond’ staging.  “Seeing as how you’re all hell-bent on embarrassing me to death.”

 

Natasha snorted.  “You love it,” she informed him.  “Ok, I’ve divided the games into categories.  We have strategy games-” she gestured at the farthest pile, which included  _ Risk, Monopoly _ , and, strangely,  _ Clue _ . 

 

Oddly enough, Steve realized Natasha was right.  He  _ did _ love it.  He loved Bucky snickering at his side and Clint giving him shit and even Tony’s verbal diarrhea.  He loved that these people cared about him, treated him like he belonged, even if sometimes he felt like he didn’t.  They  _ were _ the closest thing he had to family.  Found family, the kind that weren’t related by blood but meant just as much to the heart.  

 

He tucked Bucky into his side a little closer, watched as he argued with Natasha over whether or not  _ Clue _ belonged in the ‘deductions’ category and  _ won _ , watched as the group enfolded Bucky into their closeness without missing a step and thought that maybe  _ this _ was what he had been missing all this time.  Missing what was right under his nose. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As always, huge thanks to Clara for beta-reading and hand holding and being an all-around awesome human being.


End file.
